


Love Buzz - A Collection of Dyle One Shots

by Trashstille



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, dyle - Freeform, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11190273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashstille/pseuds/Trashstille
Summary: A bunch of Dyle One Shots. I had a one-shots thing called Hand In Glove that I deleted and now I have this mess which is probably going to be thirty-three times more inappropriate and emotionally charged. These one-shots will be really long and sad, unlike the ones I have previously written (rest in peace).





	1. In Which Dan Has Some Soup...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle has company.

It was raining in London, as always. 

The rain fell from the swollen, gray, clouds and onto the towering buildings, passing cars, and buzzing streets packed with vendors, pedestrians, and commuters. Despite the weather, the city was electric with life. After all, it was rush hour on a Tuesday evening, and many people, such as Kyle Simmons, had to get home from work. Kyle, like most, had opted for a coat and an umbrella that would shield him from the droplets that felt like pebbles when they made contact with skin. He dreaded rain, but yet managed to tolerate it almost every day of his life. In the mornings, in the afternoons and the evenings, the gloomy weather came to visit the citizens of London and greet them with a looming mass of dreary clouds that would open up and unleash rain for everyone to feel on their cheeks when they looked up to admire the darkened sky. 

Kyle, unfortunately, hated rain with a passion, but he tolerated it for the sake of living in a wonderful city. He liked London, despite the weather. He was close to his family, his friends, and he had a knack for big cities with great photo ops on every corner. 

Kyle was making his way back to his apartment. His keys dangled in his pocket as he maneuvered his way through a packed crosswalk. His new Doc Martens had been unfortunate enough to splash through a couple of puddles before he could get to the even sidewalk in front of his complex. The automatic doors slid apart before him as he trekked through the lobby and shut his umbrella, which sprinkled droplets of water onto the carpet. A disgruntled sound of disapproval could be heard from the janitor mopping the floor. Kyle simply ignored the busy man and advanced to the elevator, where he traveled all the way up to his apartment.

Kyle was surprised to find the silhouette of a hooded man sitting down cross-legged by his door, which happened to be right in front of the elevator.

When the man looked up, Kyle could clearly see that the dreary blue eyes and dull complexion belonged to none other than Dan. He did not say hello, he did not wave, or smile, he simply leaned his head back until it battered against the wall. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and then as his dry lips hung open, he sighed deeply. He turned his head to face Kyle, who wasn't quite sure what Dan was doing outside his door on a Tuesday evening. Tour ended a week ago, and they were all supposed to be with their families and friends. Woody was staying with Chrissy's family, Will was at his sister's, Charlie was in Thailand doing God knows what- so what was Dan doing there? Kyle rushed towards him and knelt down by his side.

"Dan? What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at your parent's?" 

"Kyle, can we go inside?" 

-

Kyle had warmed up some soup for Dan, who laid on the couch with his hood pulled over his head of hair and his face buried in the mess of pillows. His long legs were tangled in a mess of blankets that were layered densely over him, yet somehow could not stop his consistent shivering. Kyle poured out some chicken soup into a plastic bowl for Dan. He handled the steaming soup carefully as he set it on the coffee table. 

"What was the last time you ate anything?" Kyle asked, spooning out some of the broth from the bowl.

"Friday night? I don't know, to be honest." Dan opened his mouth enough to let the metal spoon enter.

"What's going on? You'd better not be on any of that shit Charlie's been pushing lately."

"No, no, I would never take a dip into that. I've just felt so lonely, and I started thinking, and you know when I think, I spiral down and down into this weird, dark, place, and so then I laid in bed for a day or two and smoked a little bit-" Dan took another spoonful of soup into his mouth. He swallowed earnestly and shuddered when the hot liquid washed down his throat and sent comforting warmth through his body. 

"I thought you quit?" 

"Well, I thought so too. Then after a carton and a half, I'd used up all my lighter fluid, so then I tried to pass the time by writing, but I had this taste of bile in my mouth, so I tried to rinse it out with mouthwash, and you see, I ended up drinking the entire bottle." Dan apologetically frowned as he took another generous spoonful of broth. "But after that, I couldn't bring myself to move, so I threw up in the bathtub and fell asleep on the floor. Then I came here." 

Kyle handed Dan the steaming plate of soup with care when he pulled the blankets off of him and threw them somewhere on the living room floor. Kyle sat the older man up as if he was a child. He held him tightly, making sure that the bowl of soup in his hands would not trickle from the sides and stain the couch. Dan held it shakily, but he finished it off soon enough so that Kyle didn't have to worry about soup stains on anything. 

"Let's go run you a bath, okay?" Kyle walked him to his bathroom. Dan eagerly undid his belt and took off his hoodie. He peeled off his jeans and then, clad in only his boxers, asked Kyle to help him get into the tub of warm, soapy water.

"With your boxers on?" Kyle questioned.

"I want you to stay here with me." Dan comfortable sat himself down in the tub. His boxers stuck to his skin when they made contact with the water, leaving his crotch in an unimaginably awkward situation.

"You can take them off, Dan. It's fine, I really won't mind."

"You won't, but I will."

"You know what?" Kyle began to pull his shirt over his head and then started to fumble with his jeans. Dan heard the clink of his belt when it hit the tile floor, followed by the ripples of the warm water in the tub as he climbed in. Dan was sitting facing the opposite direction of Kyle, so he couldn't see his wiry body when he stepped over the rim of the tub and into the bath. "I'll go in with you."

Dan visibly shivered as he felt Kyle's body brush up against him ever so lightly. The taller man's hands rested on Dan's forearms in an attempt to comfort him. Their bodies were pressed against each other due to the little room they had in the cramped bathtub, so Kyle had to slide his long legs into the space between Dan's sides and the tub since they both had to awkwardly contort themselves to fit into a breathable position. His chest was pressed firmly against Dan's back, creating slight friction between them. Kyle attempted to back up more so he could give Dan more space, but it wasn't long before his back hit the cold acrylic of the tub and they were still pushed against each other.

"Should I get out?" Kyle asked. He was just about ready to hop out when Dan shook his head no.

"Please, just stay here with me. We don't have to tell anyone about this, I just want you to hold me for a little."

Kyle stuttered in hesitance, but after several seconds of mental arguments and improbable outcomes he concocted in his brain, sighed in defeat. Dan needed some serious help right then, and if Kyle was too ashamed to support him, then what was the use of being there with him at all? 

Kyle wasn't sure what to do exactly, so he slid his hands around Dan's torso and pulled the shivering man closer to him. His body was weak and cold against his warm chest, which radiated heat onto the older man's back. Gently, Kyle placed his chin on the curve between Dan's neck and his shoulder, allowing Dan to lean into the embrace and slowly moved his hands to Kyle's knees.

"This is nice." Dan whispered as he turned his head to face Kyle.

"You feel okay?"

"Mm-hm." Dan nodded.

The two men were so close that they could feel each other's hearts pumping and rattling in their chest cavities with every breath they took. Dan's breath was shaky. Kyle could tell he was cold, so he slid his long arms back from Dan's torso and cupped warm water into both of his hands and gently scooped onto Dan's shoulders. Dan leaned into his loving, gentle touch as Kyle rubbed his shoulders up and down. The trickle of the water seemed to relax him as it poured onto the lightly freckled skin.

"This okay?" Kyle ran the tip of his nose from behind Dan's ear down to the nape of his neck. His mind was racing with thoughts of how insanely good it felt to hold Dan this close, and how his breath would hitch when Kyle touched his arms, and how the goosebumps would litter his skin whenever Kyle would do so much as to breathe- and God, was Kyle feeling filthy. He shook his thoughts away as he began to massage Dan's shoulder softly, but they came fluttering back in when Dan arched his back and groaned breathily.

"Sorry, hope this is okay." Kyle gently pressed his fingertips into the soft skin of Dan's freckled shoulders. The tiny amber circles would dip down into the flesh until they met the tense muscle beneath. When they did, Dan twitched and rolled his neck with a deep sigh. Every single one of Kyle's movements coaxed some sort of reaction out of Dan, who was now cupping water with both his hands and pouring it on his hair. It matted down the long strands against Dan's scalp, which made him look not much like himself since his hair always towered above him. He could go weeks without trimming it, and it would curl out the edges of his hairline and make him look like a disheveled paintbrush.

"So," Kyle cleared his throat as he continued to gently press his fingers into the flesh of Dan's back. "You wanna talk about why you've been all sad lately?"

"Kyle, I already told you what happened-"

"But you didn't say why. Come on, Dan. I'm bathing you in my boxers, for God's sake, and you won't talk to me?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Dan began. "After we got back from tour, I was so happy not to have to sleep in that shit bunk, and have to live on top of everyone else. Then after that first week of relaxation and feeling that joyous, basking-in-your-own-company kind of liberation, I began to feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, you know? I started thinking about the guys, my parents, Frannie and her baby. Then I thought, what have I accomplished? Aside from music, what's something that's tangible that I have? I have no lover, I have no children, I've just acquired attention and money. And yes, I'm aware that's a bit bitchy, but considering the fact that I'll probably die alone, it's good that maybe I'm coming to terms with the fact that even if I have all the money in all of the world, I am still completely and utterly depressed about the fact that there's no one to hold when I wake up in the mornings, or when the weather is gloomy. Everyone has a counterpart, here. Mum has dad, Fran's got her man, Chrissy has Woody, Charlie has cocaine, you have Janna. What have I got?" 

"Well, Janna's not in the picture anymore, so I guess I'm stuck with you, then?"

"You've got to be fucking with me."

"I'm really not."

-

A week had passed and Dan had gone back to his flat a record number of two times, and those two times were only to fetch a couple of outfits that would get him through a few more days staying at Kyle's. His trusty duffel bag was full to the brim with black jeans and some sweaters, all a monotonous shade of black that somehow looked so dashing on him, no matter the occasion. They had hung out at Kyle's for the sake of not having to deal with the hassle of cleaning up Dan's place, which had to be done someday, but not any day soon. Kyle had begged him to stay and relax for at least a couple of days to unwind after his little incident. It was all for the sake of Dan's health.

Dan and Kyle had sat on the balcony all night long. They sang songs and drank beer, while watching the buzzing streets flood with crowds of partygoers and individuals of all kinds, and then watch people trickle out slowly until the only sign of life was just the blinking lights of passing cars and stoplights. It was beautiful, to say the least, to watch he city streets swell with such life and electricity, and then drain just the same. Dan found it mesmerizing to watch those pedestrians, unaware that they were being observed by two young men on the twelfth floor of a shitty apartment complex in London, running around as if they had nothing better to do than to walk their life away. 

"Dan?" Kyle said after swallowing a mouthful of beer.

"Hm?" Dan replied. He was sitting on a plastic chair across the cramped balcony, much like Kyle, except Kyle was sitting on the floor. He'd let Dan take the chair, being the gentleman that he was.

"You ever wonder what those people are thinking?"

"All the time. I wonder what everybody thinks, all the time." He replied with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Kyle scooted over to Dan and laid his head comfortably in his lap. He looked up to the older man, who's glasses rested halfway down the bridge of his nose. Dan looked down and began toying with Kyle's thick, brown, locks like a small child would.

"You know what I'm thinking?" Dan slowly raked his fingers through the silky locks that had begun to grow out.

"What?" Kyle replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head back more comfortably so that Dan could continue playing with his hair.

Dan stared intently at Kyle's lips. They were pinned up into this silly little grin that could light up an entire room, and his nose was all crinkled up, and the crow's feet around his eyes showed too. His mustache had been intricately styled and his beard had been trimmed recently, by none other than Dan himself. Suddenly, Dan had an intense urge to lean down and latch their lips together, and run his hands through his long hair, and tangle his fingers in that dark facial hair. He had the burning desire to run his tongue down the seam of Kyle's lips, and run it along the row of his straight teeth, and bite his bottom lip, and tug it back with his teeth light enough to make Kyle jump- and oh, it was too much. They were just friends, weren't they?

And now that he was there, already running his long fingers through Kyle's hair, he felt himself doing just that. He leaned his head downwards, glasses almost falling to the tip of his nose, and gently brushed his lips against Kyle's.

"Dan..." Kyle breathed. His hand reached up to the side of Dan's head and he lightly dragged his fingertips against the stubble on his cheek. 

Dan did not hesitate to close the distance between their mouths, and Kyle didn't hesitate to slightly open his mouth and work against his friends lips. Dan clutched the bearded man's cheeks tightly as he pressed their mouths closer, tongues intertwined messily. The two were so focused on the intense kiss, that neither one of them bothered think about the rain that had begun pouring down from the gloomy clouds.

Kyle hated rain, but now, he didn't mind it so much. Now, he was too focused on how quickly he could get Dan's trousers off, and how long he was going to be able to keep kissing him without taking a break. Now, Kyle didn't really want to think about anything else, other than Dan. Not even the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) it's a bit lengthy and all but I'm trying to put more individual work into these one shots so they're longer and have a lot more development than the last ones. stay thirsty, my friends xx


	2. In Which Dan and Kyle Go On Vacation...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle falls down.

Kyle's hands were cold. 

His long fingers clawed at the soft linen fabric next to him in search for a sign of warmth that would help to ease the icy shivers that sent a rattling sensation down his sternum and into his stomach. The heavy quilt that he was tucked neatly into was no match for the piercing breeze that had managed to sneak through the cotton and onto his skin. He longed for the familiar warmth next to him, the flesh he could wrap his arms around when he felt that uncomfortable, the skin he would press his body against when he felt too isolated on his side of the bed, the hair he could play with when he woke up in the morning, the curls he could play with and wrap around his fingers. He felt himself flailing his arms as he rolled over on his back. There was an unsettling space that had sent him flying upwards, pulling the duvet down with him. His head whipped from side to side in search of Dan. Where could he possibly be? 

It was after he rubbed his eyes with his fists that Kyle could clearly see Dan's silhouette leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, which was right in front of the bed. He noticed Dan's arms were folded across his bare chest, which glistened from the light pouring through open windows. The shadows of rustling leaves cut through the beams of early morning rays and gracefully danced across his body like trapeze artists back and forth in the wind. He slid his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and tugged his thin lips back into a sheepish grin. "Hey."

"Hey." Kyle croaked back. 

"Last night was crazy, did you get some sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah. You been up long?"

"No, I got up to make some coffee, and I've been watching you wiggle around constantly on the bed since. It's funny, the way you kick in your sleep. 'Course, only when it's not me who's laying down right next to you."

Kyle chuckled dryly and kicked the sheets off his lanky body, then proceeded to roll out of bed and slide across the hardwood floor to where Dan was standing. He snaked an arm around his side as he passed the older man and softly pressed their foreheads together. Their hips touched as they practically melted into each other's bodies Dan took Kyle's face in his hands and ever so lightly, placed a quick peck on his bearded lover's lips.

"Aren't you tired?" Dan whispered. His lashes gently fluttered as he brought his large blue eyes to Kyle's gaze. Kyle had a somber look in his eyes, or maybe, he was just really lost. After all, it was hard not to get lost in that pretty face. Kyle's eyes would follow those little imperfections of Dan's. The wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead would crease up whenever Dan smiled or giggled or made a funny face, and Kyle somehow seemed to notice them every time. Kyle would always look at the translucent freckles that littered the perimeter of his forehead, and the more opaque ones under his eyes that seemed almost like stars in the night sky. "Kyle?"

Kyle had trailed off before completely immersing himself in the work of art he liked to call and left Dan hanging.  
"I told you, baby, I already slept-"

"No, I mean... Aren't you tired of keeping this secret from everyone? I wish we could tell them without everyone breathing down our necks afterward. It's not something we should ever hide, you know? I love you, and I really don't give a flying fuck about what anyone else says."

"Well," Kyle sighed. He gently ran the tip of his nose against Dan's. "Dick says it's bad publicity for the band, but I don't think a guy named Dick should tell us what's bad for our reputation." 

Kyle's joke coaxed a hearty laugh out of Dan. His blue eyes shone just a little brighter when he giggled, and his cheeks turned a flushed shade of pink, and his nose would crinkle up. It was like watching a wonderful film. It would start with the grin, and he would always shyly look away, but then out of his stomach would come these hiccups of laughter, and then he could barely breathe. The anticipation of or not he would be able to find air to fill his lungs enough to cough out more deep, hearty giggles always made Kyle wonder how Dan could entrance him like that. He would watch him fold up into his contagious laughter like an origami swan, and then Kyle could not possibly tear his eyes away from him when Dan looked back up, all red and flustered and breathless. It was those little things that always made Kyle realize why he loved Dan so much. Those little mundane, everyday things that he could always count on to make his life little brighter. 

Dan gently locked their lips. His fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of Kyle's neck. They pulled apart as if an imaginary adhesive had glued them together.

"Let's get dressed, okay? We've got about two hours left to drive to my parent's place, so if we leave now, we could make it there by eleven. What do you say?"

"Of course." Kyle gave one more kiss before he gracefully slipped away into the corner of the room where he threw on a wrinkled sweater and some jeans he had found in the depths of his bag. God knows how long Kyle had kept those in there, but they fit, and he wasn't too worried about their wrinkled condition. They could have used a quick iron, but Kyle was never the kind of man who minded too much if his pants had creases and his shirts were wrinkled like an old prune. He lived simply, and Dan didn't seem to mind.

Dan chuckled and went to go rummage through his duffel bag in the corner of the room. He pulled out a flannel that he quickly buttoned up and rolled to his elbows, and frankly, he looked quite dashing with that odd combination of sweatpants with plaid. From his peripheral, he could see Kyle trying to flatten the creases in his dark jeans with his hands. Dan shook his head teasingly at the man when he caught his large, doe eyes looking up at him.

"Hey, a man's gotta look sharp for his lady."

"Well, your lady has -"

"Don't say it!"

-  
"It feels like we've been driving forever, can we switch?." Kyle gripped the steering wheel with his right hand, while the other fished around for crumbs in a bag of chips that Dan was holding out for him. 

"It's been five minutes, we've eaten an entire bag of chips, and you're already complaining? Mister Simmons, with an attitude like that, you're not getting out of that seat until we reach our destination."

"Look," Kyle pointed to a field ahead. "You wanna stop there? To take pictures, or to piss in, or we could make out?" 

"Not a chance, baby."

And so then, after petty arguments and cute comebacks, they kept driving. Kyle insisted on stopping to make out the open fields so many times in a half an hour, that Dan had begun to think that maybe two men kissing passionately in a secluded field somewhere in rural England didn't seem like such a bad idea. So after Kyle pestered him relentlessly for an eternity, Dan sighed in defeat and uttered "fine, let's go," and then proceeded to tune out Kyle and his teasing. It seemed like mere seconds passed before Kyle pulled over and he shut his door so hard, that their car shook vigorously from the impact. Dan remained inside for a few seconds before he mustered the strength to sigh heavily and step out of the car, only to find Kyle prancing in the field excitedly like a boy. He watched Kyle immediately stuck his arms out as if he were pretending to fly. His long legs pranced through the high grass without a care, his arms stiff and fingers all aligned. 

Dan simply observed from the car. He leaned back against the front of the car and folded his arms across his chest while he laughed dryly at the childish man who cavorted carelessly on the grass. The loose ground beneath Kyle crumbled under the weight of his heavy boots, causing him to tumble as the soil collapsed beneath him.   
He fell right on his ass, and his legs flew up into the air. He looked like a cockroach with his legs kicking at the sky. Dan's fit of laughter rang through the air like a tender melody.

"My ass! I think I broke my ass!"

And that's when Dan's knees buckled beneath him, and his arm flew to the asphalt to stop himself from completely collapsing of belly laughter that had begun to spew out of his mouth. He gasped for air as he watched Kyle writhe around for a while, and try to compose himself. Then, the bearded man rose to his knees and waddled back to the car with a childish pout on his face. He had his hands balled up fists at his side.

"You alright?" Dan giggled as he grasped onto the car for balance. He stood up completely and outstretched his arms for Kyle, who eagerly snuggled up to Dan and cheekily slid his hands down to his lover's behind with haste.

"Yeah, it hurt, though. How 'bout you kiss it better later?" Kyle slid his hands down the back of Dan's thighs and lifted him up onto the front of the car. Dan gasped as he felt Kyle take his legs and lock them around his waist. Kyle's hands gently traveled from Dan's long legs and up to his wild hair. Dark, messy, locks spewed out of his head in the most naturally beautiful way. The curls would glisten in the sun and wave in the wind, and even at their messiest, managed to accent every single one of Dan's beautiful features.

"We'll see..." Dan said, hands gripping Kyle's shoulder. His lips found themselves craving more of Kyle's touch, and then consequently, he pulled Kyle closer and mashed their lips together in a sloppy kiss.

Their lips moved together like synchronized swimmers, and sometimes, Kyle would just daringly slide his mouth open enough to let a little tongue slip out, and he would feel Dan hum in content, and it felt magical. As their breathing became heavier, and Kyle had to prop himself up on his hands on either side of the taller man, Dan felt himself melting into his touch, like that morning in the doorway. It was so strange, how Kyle could make his back arch, and his breath hitch and his entire body swell with passion, like if he was a block of wet clay, and Kyle was a sculptor. Before Dan could start to come undone and buckle him and beg Kyle until he to take him then and there, on the hood of their shit car, he broke away from the kiss and sighed heavily.

"Kyle," Dan panted. "The sooner we get to the house, the sooner we can finish this, okay?"

"There's no one here..."

"No."

-

Dan's fingers curled around the exposed skin of Kyle's bare chest. It rose and fell at a brisk rate, but it was slowing down gradually after coming down from their pleasurable high. They had managed not to make any more stops through the rest of the hour and a half drive, and successfully arrived at Dan's parent's vacation home in the English countryside. It was no mansion, but hell, it had a nice pool, and pretty spacious. There was a fireplace, some nice curtains and antique furniture. The home was cozy and smelled of lavender perfume and years worth of dust, but it felt like home. It had a sense of warmth to it that many places didn't, and the two men were feeling just as welcome in the house as they were in each other's arms. 

After they had arrived, it wasn't long before Kyle had mentioned his eagerness to get into Dan's trousers, and one thing led to another, and eventually they ended up breathless on the couch a mere 15 minutes later. So there they were, on a couch as old as Dan, probably, naked and sweaty and all tangled up in an even older blanket, cuddling and falling asleep to the sounds of their own shallow breathing. Kyle had wrapped his arms around dan, who was laying comfortable against his torso. Their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces, since every curve contrasted the other. Their legs were tangled together and their hearts were pumping to similar rhythms against each other's chests.

"Kyle?" Dan whispered. He gently pressed his tender lips to Kyle's collar bone.

"Hm?"

"I wanna run away with you. Just us out here, living life in this big house all to ourselves and not having a single care in the world. We should just throw everything away and drive around for the rest of our lives and make out and drink coffee, and then we can get those little friendship bracelets at the tourist shops."

"Baby," Kyle chuckled, kissing away a bead of sweat that perspired along Dan's forehead. "We can't do that. We've got the band, we've got families and friends that love us- what about them?"

"I know, I know," Dan's voice was barely audible as he slid his arms around Kyle's slim neck. "I just wish we had all the time in the world to ourselves. We could go on so many adventures-" Dan buried his face into the crook of Kyle's neck and began to weep quietly. He didn't know exactly why- or where the tears came from- but he just felt that tension in his tear ducts and they just came creeping out. 

"We go on tons of adventures! We travel the world for a living, baby. Don't you cry like that. Baby, look at me."

Dan could not possibly tear his face from the comfort of Kyle's neck. The salty tears had managed to push themselves out of their ducts until Dan could no longer put together a coherent sentence and all Kyle could hear were little whimpers and practically inaudible gibberish.

"Dan, why are you crying? You know I hate to see you like this..."

Dan lifted his head to meet Kyle's gaze. His eyes were red and swelling, yet they held this beautiful, passionate gaze that penetrated through the tears welling up.  
"I'm sorry, I just don't want to live like that anymore. We get up and play for hundreds of people, and we get drunk, wrote songs and then sleep. Over and over again- it's like I never have time to hold you or kiss you or make sweet, sweet, love to you."

"Well," Kyle pushed a strand of hair from Dan's forehead. "I think it's time we tell them."

"Just the guys?" Dan asked. He brought the palms of his hands to Kyle's cheeks and slid his fingers into the hair on the nape of his lover's next. 

"Everyone."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus it took me seventeen years to post something I'm sorry. I've literally been procrastinating and doing nothing but painting. I painted for like two months straight and like honestly I went to the art store and I saw "Daniel Smith Watercolor Paint" and I weeped because then I remembered I hadn't posted anything in so long so finished this draft. Thanks for reading this, and make sure to show some love on tumblr @dansmithstoes :) xx


	3. In Which Kyle Is A Florist And Dan Thinks It's Kinky...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle likes flowers.

Kyle was always gentle to his flowers.

The 27-year-old florist had grown extremely fond of his plants and would always have a tender touch when he handled them. Even when he sprayed them with a fine mist, or snipped their stems so he could arrange them into a meticulous, vibrant bouquet, he would never be too harsh on them. The way his fingers would gently curl around the green stems resembled a vine careening through orifices of a trellis as it grew, and how the tip of his nose would barely graze the petals of his roses seemed like it was always with no intentions of even touching them. That's why the plants always flourished, and the roots always grew thick, and the stems were sturdy like the trunks of mighty oaks and redwoods. Because Kyle knew how to nurture them and spoil them without ruining them.

The day was damp and cold, much like the young man who came stumbling into Simmon's Flower Shop at 4:33 on a Thursday evening with disheveled hair and peeling lips. His button down, undone, beneath his sweater, giving him a rugged appearance that was completed by the torn-up pair of converse he wore so well. His hands were burrowed in his pockets, and his gaze was strictly focused on the floor of the shop. 

"Can I help you?" Kyle called. The younger man whipped his head up in response, his eyes searching for the source of the voice through rows and rows of potted plants of all kinds. A head peeked out from behind some and the stranger knew the voice belonged to him for some reason. It suited him so well... A groomed beard and mustache, with thick brows and soft eyes to contrast, and a pointy, delicate nose. To top it all off, the bearded man wore a flannel with one too many buttons undone.

"Um... Yes, actually." The stranger choked out with a grin as he approached the counter. "I'm getting my mother flowers, you see. I wanted to get her something since her birthday's coming up soon and I'd love to show her how much I love her. You got anything with yellow?"

"Well, I've got sunflowers, marigolds, tulips, and if you're into hydrangeas or some lilies, I've got dozens to choose from here..." Kyle slid out from behind the counter and made his way to the new customer. He noticed the blue-eyed man was slightly hunched over as he looked down shyly. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Daniel, but you can call me Dan." He smiled politely as his eyes skimmed across Kyle's face. His cheeks were flushing a shade of pink that made his eyes seem as vibrant as a blue sky. tongue quickly skirted across his dry lips, leaving a trail of glossy wetness that brought life to them. Kyle could not keep his eyes off the man. 

"Kyle Simmons, a pleasure to meet you." He stuck his hand out for Dan to shake, and he reciprocated the awkwardly, but nonetheless, Kyle still couldn't keep his eyes off the shy man. "Let's go over here, and you can pick out what you'd like, alright?"

Kyle took Dan to a part of the shop that was beneath a glass roof that came to a point, like a steeple. was open, and the light would pour through the large windows on the walls surrounding the array of little trees and flowers that were comfortably packed together. There were air plants in little pots hanging from the support beams that ran across the ceiling. It was what Kyle liked to call "The Sistine Chapel of Florist Shops." Dan was admiring the light that shone through the glass roof and how the shadows of the tree danced across the floor, and how when he held out his hand to the ceiling, he could see the shadows of the veins stretching out as he tilted his hand slightly. He smiled to himself as he looked up to the little pots dangling and swinging so gently in the air. 

"You like this?" Kyle asked Dan as he gently ran his fingertips on the underside of one of the clay pots. It took him hours to wrap the string around those pots tight enough so that they wouldn't slip out, and now it finally paid off. Kyle had impressed someone with his Marth Stewart-like skills.

"It's " Dan replied. It was then, as he brought his gaze to the store owner for the first time, that he felt his heart beat itself into his mouth. His blood began to thicken and slow as he dove into those warm, brown eyes of Kyle's. His lashes were so long, and his hair seemed so thick and messy, he'd love to play with it sometime. And those plump lips? God damn, he would love to play with those sometime. But somehow, Dan knew very well that he was in over his head on this one. 

"I call it the Sistine Chapel of Florist Shops. Take note, I've never been outside of London, much less seen the Sistine Chapel, so I may be exaggerating it a bit." 

"Well, frankly, the Sistine Chapel has nothing on your air plant decor, Kyle." Dan giggled. He observed those beautiful brown eyes light up with such wonder and curiosity that it made his heart swell so much that he feared it would pop.

"You've been?"

"Well, not exactly, no." Dan rubbed the back of his neck with his hand in shame while he shook his head. 

"What were we talking about again? The flowers? Yeah, the flowers, sorry. What kind of flowers does your mother like?" 

"Well, she's always loved sunflowers. One summer, she managed to grow one in our backyard and we were all dumbfounded by how tall it was, and how it would turn to the sun. My sister and I would take my keyboard and, like, seven extension chords, and we'd plug it into the massive chain of extension cords leading from my kitchen the backyard, and play some music for it. We had a name for that sunflower, I think it was Charlie, and when it started wilting, we'd sing to it so that it would grow back to health. It never did, though."

"Charlie, huh? I'll put a couple of 'Charlies' in the bouquet if you don't mind, then. How about we take a look at these lilies over here? They go good with the sunflowers, plus it'll make the bouquet look very fresh and clean with that little splash of white, won't it?" The bearded man picked up a potted daisy plant and gently the white petals like if a mother would an infant.

And in that moment in time, Dan realized that maybe he wasn't over his head on and that the florist that he had assumed was straight, had just completely proved his assumptions wrong. No heterosexual man could talk about a flower bouquet like that. None. He felt a bit guilty about assuming Kyle's sexuality- but a florist with that flannel shirt undone to the middle of his sternum, and the rings on his fingers? His wrists had bracelets stacked on top of each other, and his nails- painted with silver polish! 

"Definitely! That's exactly what I pictured." Dan replied hastily, not really sure if he was talking about the or Kyle's sexuality. "Can I ask you something?"

Kyle looked up from the colorful ceramic pot of daisies that rested in his hands. "Go right ahead."

"How long have you been doing this flower thing for? Gardening in general?" Dan cocked his head with curiosity. He saw a glimmer of excitement in Kyle's as if he were dying to tell someone this story for ages.

"I started gardening when I was really young. My grandmother and I would go outside and we would care for her flower garden. Her name was actually Iris, and my mother was named Holly, and we had this cat Anyways, when my grandmother passed, it was spring. All the flowers had bloomed, so I snipped the stems and made this arrangement for her funeral, and the service was lovely and everything, but the only thing keeping me sane through that time was the little sliver of closure I felt when I saw those flowers on top of her casket. I was about fourteen, at that time. when I decided that I wanted to work with flowers, and I studied horticulture at Manchester and when I graduated, I moved here. The building was empty and selling for cheap, so I decided to take out a loan and some of my savings and start this hell of a business."

"Wow, I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother. I'm so happy for you, after getting through that time. Must have been hard to get through that." Sympathized Dan, who ran his hand down Kyle's arm and didn't notice he was doing so until he laced their fingers together and felt the cold metal of Kyle's many rings pressing against his skin. His cheeks burned furiously as he caught Kyle's gaze. Slowly, a hopeful grin tugged at the corner of Kyle's lips. The florist laughed breathily and gave his new friend's hand a little squeeze before he shyly pulled away.

"I've certainly opened my book up tonight. What about you, Dan? What do you do?"

"Well, I'm a journalist. I studied at Leeds and graduated with a degree in English Literature, got an internship at the and then after two weeks, they hired me for some reason. After that I kind of made my way up the ladder there, now I'm one of their top employees. If you read the paper, I'm the one who did the article on that bank robbery a couple of weeks ago." 

"That was you? You're an amazing writer, Daniel. You know, the press is the watchdog the government. You should write about one of those big conspiracy theories about the Royal Family secretly being lizards from space!" Joked Kyle. 

"You know, if getting fired was my intention, I could do that." The wild-haired man nodded sarcastically before coaxing a hearty laugh from the florist.

"Listen, it's almost time to close up shop, but it'd be fantastic if you could come tomorrow to talk about the flower arrangement. Unless, of course, you'd like to come to dinner with me tonight and discuss it then?"

Kyle was surprised to hear those words exit his mouth, and frankly, Dan was too. The blue-eyed man smiled contently and nodded eagerly. 

Did he just ask me out on a date? Do I really look that gay? Dan thought as he followed Kyle back into the front of the shop. After Kyle had written down his personal information and reserved a date for the arrangement to be ready for pick up, he grabbed his keys and eagerly ran out the door with the new friend he had made. 

-

"So, dinner with your client - how often does that happen?" Dan politely asked after taking a sip of his steaming tea.

"Not very often. Usually, they're not as handsome as you, and the men that do come around are always shopping for their girls." Kyle leaned back in the booth of the restaurant. He smiled coyly as he awaited the response from Dan, which was a shy giggle and some sarcastic mumbles.

"Are you flirting with me, flower boy?" He asked Kyle, who ran his fingertip along the rim of his sweating glass.

"I don't know, Larry King, you tell me? You ever been with a florist before?"

"I can't say I have, no. Never been with a woman either. Or a plant, for that matter."

"I've had my fair share of girls, but none I really clicked with. A plant, I've got to admit, that was the best sex I ever had."

Dan burst into a fit of childish laughter. His nose and eyes crinkled up like a compressed spring as his lips pulled back to reveal a set of straight teeth lined up in a symmetrical smile that could light up an entire town. Those beautiful blue irises of his had managed to move the shy man's line of sight somewhere other than the floor.

"You have a beautiful smile, " Kyle said. "Funny how we've been here for half an hour and we still haven't talked about the flowers, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Was that just a way to con me into a date?"

"Is this a date?" Kyle raised a thick brow.

"It all depends. Do you like me? Because maybe- just maybe- I think I'm starting to like you."

"I do like you, actually. In fact, I like you so much, that I'm willing to ask you out to dinner this Friday after and maybe I could take us to a nice rooftop somewhere in London where we can stare at the stars and kiss passionately for hours until we fall asleep, and wake with the sun. What do you say?"

"Hm. I'd like that."

-

Kyle had never wished for Friday to come as much as he did that week. 

He worked diligently on the bouquet for hours on end, hoping that every meticulously arranged flower would be enough to impress Dan. He really liked him, and he was hoping with every ounce of optimism in his body that Dan's mother would love the marigolds and daisies combined with striking, golden sunflowers. 

Behind that counter, he watched dozens, if not hundreds of faces wander around the store, but not one of them the blue-eyed, freckled beauty he was searching for. It wasn't until Friday came that Kyle had been excited enough to get out of bed on time to be able to comb his hair and pick out a nice outfit for the evening. Dan and Kyle had exchanged numbers, and after working around their busy schedules, they decided to drop off the flowers at Dan's mum's place and then go on their date. Obviously, Kyle felt it appropriate to wear a crisp, ironed patterned, button-down for his date, and the choice of a more refined look earned him several compliments from the elderly women who were so charmed by his attitude, that they would visit him in the shop every now and again.

The women came in a group, waltzing into the store with a spring in their step. Despite Kyle's wonderfully supportive and equally welcoming staff, the group of elderly women had always had a certain attraction to him. They were all friends since their youth, and as aging made them feel as if they'd lost their glamour and flare, Kyle had somehow gotten in the crossfire of the women and their quest for eternal youth. Edna, Nikki, and Jade were their names. They were like The Golden Girls, except there were three and all of them smokers. How they met Kyle was a funny story, however. The three of them ordered flowers for each other, but they all ordered on the same day and coincidentally picked them up at the same exact time, so there were three confused 75 year-olds in Simmons' Flower Shop at noon on a thursday and not a single one of had thought to explain it to him. It was an interesting day, but the hours they spent chatting in the corner of the shop had turned into such a wonderful tradition, that he promised himself he'd never let go of friends like that. Every friday evening, the ladies would put out their cigarettes by the door (in an ash tray Kyle specifically set outside just for them) and trot their way into the store, talk to Kyle about everyday, mundane things such as his love life, the cast of Friends, Morrisey, politics, and the struggle of not being able to sleep with David Duchovny while he was still young. This friday, however, Kyle had forgotten to tell them about his date.

"Kyle? Did you bring the Margarita Mix this time?" Edna called as she glided into the shop with her velvet sweatpants hanging low on her frail, elderly, hips.

"Actually, Eddie, I've got a date tonight, and a flower delivery I've got to take care of beforehand. Sorry, I totally forgot about it."

"No worries, me and the girls were just going to stop by tonight, anyways. Nikki and Jade are outside smoking the rest of their cigs, since they know how picky you are about smoking."

"It's not for my health, it's for my children's." He outstretched a hand to the rows and arrays of plants stacked on shelves, earning a deep chuckle from Edna.

As soon as he finished folding and undoing his apron, Nikki and Jade had shimmied into the shop with wide grins and velvet sweatsuits, much like Edna's. In fact, they were all matching.

"Kylie's got a date tonight! Kylie's getting dick tonight!" They chanted as they clapped their hands together in a childish ryhtym. Their hips swung from side to side, and the smell of alcohol and smoke was prominent. They were drunk and announcing to the entire city block that the store owner was off the market, and Kyle simply chuckled and rolled his eyes, but was too preoccupied with organizing the clutter on the front desk to notice Dan walking through the door in the midst of the X-rated musical number. He ignored their cackling as he bent down to look for his keys in the drawers below the counter.

"Kyle, what's the guy like? Is he cute? A bottom?" Nikki pushed her sunglasses higher up the bridge of her small nose as she looked the confused and slightly anxious Dan up and down. "You see anything serious with him?"

"Well," Kyle called from his spot on the floor behind the counter. "His name is Daniel, he's gorgeous, and he's got the prettiest freckles. The man's a hot shot journalist who likes Twin Peaks and loves his momma to death - which I think is so sweet- and to answer your question, I'd say probably."

Dan was dumbfounded. he stood there at the entrance, frozen and silent, and when he was about to speak up, Edna hushed him by placing a thin finger on his lips.

"He a good kisser?" Jade asked. 

"Actually J, I've yet to find out, but I haven't stopped thinking about him since he walked in here. The guy looks like one of those models-" Kyle stopped short when he found his keys, celebrated silently, and then jumped back up, only to find Dan standing by the front door with Edna, Jade, and Nikki to his side. They all had their arms crossed and their lips pinned up in these devilish grins.

"A model, huh?" 

-

"So, what do you think about that flower arrangement?" Kyle inquired as he started the ignition of his crappy car. The flower bouquet had been tucked safely in the back of the car so that it would be safe from harm. They both wanted it to be in tip top shape. He buckled up his seatbelt and waited for Dan to do the same, and he promptly did so, but his eyes looked so damn blue in the light of the parking lot, that Kyle just stared at them.

"I think it's astounding. You can really tell that there's hard work and dedication put into that beautiful work of art. It's an artisanal masterpiece, to say the least."

"Oh be quiet," Kyle chortled. "It's just some flowers, not the-"

"Sistine Chapel?"

"Yeah." Whispered Kyle.

Then there was this tense silence. The distance between them was becoming less and less with every breath they took, and every little flick of the tongue across the lips, and every little tiny flutter of an eyelash. It was in the parking lot of Simmons' Flower Shop, under the light of the street lamps and passing cars, that their eyes remained locked, and Kyle mustered the courage to slide his hand to the back of Dan's neck- and Dan could barely contain his anxiety as the tips of their noses brushed against each other so lightly, it felt like the breath of an angel. Then the collision happened. Dan undid his seatbelt and clutched Kyle's hair like it was his only threshold of reality in that moment- like it was the only thing he could (dan please release)grip onto and never crumble beneath the pressure of his clenched fists. The heat of two mouths working against each other was enough to send a wave of comfort through Kyle's lanky frame that had him sighing so deeply and begging for more of Dan's heat with his lips, kising harder and running his hands over the cotton-clad torso of his messy-haired lover. If it weren't for Dan's lack of breath, the two would have been kissing for hours. Of course, when they pulled away all red-faced and flustered, they shyly buckled their seatbelts and flooded their brains of repulsive thoughts to ease the strangely pleasurable friction that had felt it appropriate to make an appearance that night.

-

"Dan, the GPS is sending me to the cemetery, are you sure this is where your mum lives?"

"Keep driving." Dan shyly said as he fumbled with a loose string on his shirt.

"Are you alright?" 

"Kyle, keep driving, please." Dan begged, his eyes wide, lips bitten and raw.

Hesitantly, Kyle drove on. He wasn't really sure what was going on with Dan or his mother, but the fact that they were driving into a cemetery gave him the idea that maybe Dan's mum wasn't around anymore. Maybe that was the case? But why would Dan be so cryptic about it?

"Come one now, if there's something you want to tell me-"

"I really like you, and I hope that if this relationship works out for us, we have a wonderful future together, okay? But I need you to understand that this is something I struggled with for a very long time, and it's part of the reason I haven't been going out with anyone, so please- fucking please- just help me feel closure tonight." Dan did not move his gaze from the windhsield. He couldn't bear to look at Kyle with his face tear-stained and droopy, because he felt too vulnerable. Why couldn't he just be open? How hard would it have been? It was just the fear of ruining the evening with his overdramatic, hypersensitive bullshit, and now, it couldn't possibly get worse.

"Dan, I understand. When my grandmother passed, I felt the exact same way, you know? And seeing you like this, all teared up and so, so vulnerable-" Kyle's voice came to a hushed whisper as his hand began to run up Dan's arm to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It hurts me to see you like this, so come on, let's give your mum the flowers, and if you're up to it, let's go on a romantic date."

"Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"My mum would have loved you."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord Jesus hallelujah I finally finished this, and I'm actually kind of pissed at myself for ending it like that but there's just no energy left in my body as I lay here, in my IKEA bed, typing this at 12:07 am. I'll have you know, I was going to write smut in this, but I didn't because I am a child of the Lord™. So thanks again for reading, and please tell me what u think because validation makes me feel loved and important and helps me fill the void thank u goodnight.
> 
> Also tag yourself as one of the old ladies I'm actually Nikki smh.


	4. In Which Kyle Gives Dan an Art History Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon Trotsky looks like the KFC guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning this chapter mentions Vincent van Gogh's suicide, and trotsky's ice pick assasination so if that makes u uncomfortable I suggest u skip this?? Sorry :(

"You know, this could take about eight hours." Kyle said through a mouthful of an egg salad sandwich he snatched from his fridge that morning. He sat all high and mighty on his stool with his palette in his left hand, and his brush on the other. You could say he looked like one of those french artists- all he was missing was his black beret. "You can back out now, but if you don't, there's no going back." He swallowed his last bite of the sandwich with glee as he adjusted himself so that his eyes met with Dan's. 

"Baby, I'll sit here for three days, if it means I can spend them with you." The lanky, wild-haired boy grinned as he pushed the sleeves of his chunky, yellow sweater up to just under his elbows.

"Cheesy old whore, you are." Kyle chuckled. He watched as Dan casually laid back on their beight, purple couch (not so fashionable for a gay couple, but it was a bargain buy at a thrift store, and they were impulsive shoppers). He clasped his hands together and set them between his thighs, clad in his usual black denim. He smirked at Kyle for a second. "Very well then, let's get started." 

\- 

The first hour passed and Kyle was doing very well. He'd started painting the contours of Dan's face with the undertones, a light peach and faded blush for his cheeks, forehead, chin and nose, a thin layer of hunter's green for his 5 o'clock shadow, and a stark white for his highlights. He used the same brush, since he didn't feel detail was a necessity at that time, but when he got to it, things would get way more technical. 

It was looking swell so far, despite it being only shapes and outlines. But as he built up the layers of colors, he found it fascinating how many hues could be found on one man's face. There was a deep violet under Dan's eyes, hiding beneath the tender skin littered with peachy freckles. The green undertone along his neck, jaw, upper lip, and chin suggested that the once clean shaven area was soon to be needing a trim.   
His lips, a light rose when chapped, but pinkish-red when moist. But the most striking feature of his was his beautiful irises. They were this beautiful, sky-blue shade that Kyle could only dream of seeing in the world. No vibrant sky could look as beautiful as those pretty eyes of his. They were so easy to read, too. You'd look at them and he'd tell you exactly what he wanted. Sex, a a warm hug, a little space, some more sex...   
And as he began to build up the second layer of color, he started to see Dan get a little antsy.

"You need a break?" He inquired, watching Dan as his head perked up.

"No, not at all babe. I was just thinking of something, nothing important though. You just keep painting, I'm alright."

Kyle could see what he wanted. It was so blatantly clear that Dan was growing impatient. His brown irises travelled from his lover's floral socks, cuffed black jeans, mustard sweater, to his big blues. Kyle was no psychic, but it was clearly obvious that dan had crossed his legs for a reason. Those tight jeans could show more emotion than Kyle really anticipated, at times. Sometimes, at very unfortunate moments.

"Dan, are you serious?" The painter crossed his arms and set his palette down on the easel. He tucked his two brushes behind his ear.

"I'm a man, Kyle. That's just how we work. Humans were wired to only want two things: food and sex. What do you expect me to do? You're painting! You know I get excited when you paint-"

"Dude, you've got a while to wait before I finish this, and I know if we do take a break, we'll get sidetracked, bang, order takeout, and never finish this thing."

"Kyle Simmons? Turning down sex? Huh... anything is possible, then."

"Oh be quiet, choir boy, and stop moving for a second unless you want your nose to look like Will snapped it in two."

"I'd rather have Will break my nose than wait 8 hours for sex."

"I'll call him, then."

"Fine, Picasso."

"Thanks. You know, Picasso had over a dozen wives."

-

And so then, after Kyle simply neglected Dan's urge to get it on (which was strange, since Kyle was the one who always initiated it), they continued a conversation about how Manet and Monet were two different people, Degas was an actual person and not the french word for gasoline, and how Frida Kahlo's husband was a cheating whore and a communist.

"I honestly have no idea why she stayed with him. He had so many affairs, but she still loved him. Then again, she did experiment with women every now and again. And banged Trotsky. I don't blame her, honestly, Trotsky was so sexy. He had the likeness of the KFC guy-"

"Colonel Sanders?" 

"Yeah. Anyways, she fucked the communist, then he got bludgeoned by an ice pick, and then a while later, caught her sister banging her husband, kicked her out of the house. Uh, then... I think they got divorced and she went to Paris... then they got back together again."

"You're quite the art history scholar." Dan chimed from his seat on the couch. His entire body was numb from sitting for so long. The sensation of staticky pinpricks ran all under his legs and spread to his waist. It was certainly uncomfortable, but he knew Kyle needed him to stay still so he could paint him properly.

"That's why I teach it, you nerd." Kyle cocked his head to the side and leaned back, trying to see the painting from a different angle. It was going along quite nicely. It had only been a few hours in when Kyle realized he should've told Dan that he was only painting his face. The poor bastard's ass was numb from sitting on that gay, purple couch, but Kyle didn't even think to tell him. 

"Oh uh, by the way..." Kyle started.

"What?" 

"You can move your body. I'm only painting from the neck up."

"Asshole! You could've told me earlier, then my entire lower body wouldn't have gone numb."

"My bad."

 

And so he continued painting, watching dan from the corner of the canvas. He could see those coy blue eyes staring back at him, a smirk tugging on the corner of those thin, pink lips. If looks could kill, Kyle would be Trotsky. Dead, with an ice pick on the side of his head.

-

"Are you saying Vincent Van Gogh didn't kill himself?" Dan shook his head in disbelief. All signs pointed towards his suicide. The fact that no one bought his art, he was seen as ridiculous for his post-impressionist artwork, and had cut off his own ear. Dan had so many questions.

"Yes- but hear me out," Kyle began. He took a brief glance at his partner, who had quite the scowl on his face. Who could blame the man? The poor guy had a numb ass and a subpar art history teacher for a lover. "Vincent Van Gogh was a holy man. He was very faithful, forgiving, and religious, see? And he's, besides the fact that he suffered from mental illness, there were factors that contributed to that. A group of teenagers in his village had always bullied the poor dude, see? They'd throw stones at him and taunt him. But he forgave them, because his faith enabled him with the power to give zero fucks." 

"Okay. You're saying the kids did it?"

"Yeah, basically. Do you think he could've killed himself with a long range rifle? Do you think he could've shot himself with a three foot gun, and died immediately? No. Because neither one of those things happened! It took three days for the little dude to die! Something like that... I'm not sure, but my uncertainty is not really that important right now since I'm trying to prove a point."

"I guess that makes sense. The kids fooled around, shot him, and ran away in fear. But Vincent, the lord-loving ginger, didn't want to report them because he was so holy and forgiving."

"See, Dan, thats why I hold grudges. Because if some teens shoot me, you bet your sorry ass I'll drag my lifeless body from my grave to smack each and every one of them." He motioned with his brush as he spoke. Kyle was so vibrant sometimes.

"Before you go around smacking teenagers," Dan chuckled. "Are you done yet?"

Kyle groaned. His shoulders slumped, he shook his head. The bearded man rolled his head around, let out a yawn, and apologized to his lover for taking so long. "Good things take time, Dan. That's why it takes nine months for a baby to grow in the urethra-"

"Dear god, Kyle."

-

Two more hours passed and Kyle's bony hands had cramped up a grand total of twenty three times. By the time Dan had fallen asleep on the couch, Kyle had just about given up on trying to finish the whole portrait in one sitting, and thrown his easel on the floor, with his four paintbrushes clattering next to it. He undid his apron as he stepped off the stool. His aching fingers undid the knot with ease, despite the inflamed joints not being able to do much else. He's been doing this a while, so it was second nature to him.

Within five minutes, Kyle had laid down on the couch next to his partner and wrapped his long arms around the warm body next to his. Plenty of gentle, wet, sleepy kisses were shared in the embrace. 

"Dan?"

"Hm."

"I fucking hate this couch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear GOD I haven't posted anything in a long time. I didn't even proofread this. I wrote this at 11pm while listening to Gorillaz and crying about dan smith.
> 
> Sorry for this half-assed art history lesson but I really wanted to talk about the whole "Vincent van gogh was murdered" conspiracy which my old art teacher told me about. If anyone would like to investigate and let me know what u think pls let me know!!!
> 
> thank u for reading this subpar chapter!!


	5. I’m Sorry I Can’t Do the Thing, Let’s Still Do It Though

you are an angel. your eyes are big and brown and you have long curly hair. you’re radiant and have a smile that brightens up the world. too compassionate, too kind, and too sensitive, yet resilient enough not to show it. the world has brought you down and you’ve shaped yourself to its conformities. if only you realized how beautiful you would be if you’d stop playing it safe, and living for yourself. you don’t open up to many people. literally  
Only a few I can think of. anyways,  
you can’t keep changing yourself and putting yourself in a comfortable position rather than the one you know is right. stop being ashamed of yourself for the simple things. you are talented, ambitious, energetic and radiant enough to carry yourself away from the negativity of the people who hold you back. nobody on this earth could ever stop you from doing what you love. well, your mom maybe, but that’s different.  
you don’t fall in love too quickly because deep down there’s an urge to love someone you can’t. you know you can’t ignore that feeling forever. substituting that urge with something that seems ‘safe’ and ‘comfortable’ will never fill that void. You are what you are and no matter how many nice people you surround yourself with, nothing will ever change what’s in your heart. find yourself, treat yourself like the beautiful soul you are. your weight is irrelevant compared to the brightness of your smile. Your outfits don’t matter, compared to your laugh. The surface is nothing. You still have so much to accept about that beautiful enigma of yours. Take your time, heal, love, hurt. Grow as a person, go on adventures. Explore this planet we live on because it’s not worth waking up every day if I don’t look forward to doing at least one of these things with you. I hope one day we’ll go and see the world together. We deserve more.

-from dan to kyle 

———————————————————-

I want to show you how big the world is. How buildings can be so tall that staring up at them makes you dizzy. I want to kiss you in the Sistine chapel and wake up next to you on our bed in our santorini beach house.  
We can walk in small villages with thick air and sweaty clothes clinging to us like sticky syrup and we can go wherever you’d like.  
i want to take you to libraries so we can walk around and hold hands and look at all the stupid books people read.  
we can buy exotic foods and travel back to our hotel rooms just to eat it and fall asleep in each other’s arms.   
I want to buy you pretty souvenirs and magnets and pins so we always remember when we were young and in love with the idea of a lifetime together.  
i want to look into your eyes forever in a museum full of the greatest masterpieces because you are far more stunning than any painting or sculpture by the Masters of the fine Arts.

I want to show you life’s simple pleasures. Sticky sea water and old, grandpa shirts. I want to show you outer space condensed, I want to show you the future, our home and our adventures, and I want to show you the past, the smell of dusty fabric and video game cassettes. I want to show you the lives of the wealthy capitalists and the American lower class. I want to explore whatever odd place we find ourselves in, and take you by the hand as we learn everything there is to know about life.

with love, from Kyle   
————————————-

I want to show you where I grew up and where I lived, who I grew up with. What vhs tapes I’d slide into the vcr on Saturday mornings. The clothes I used to wear when I was younger. I want to show you my favorite place on earth. The island I grew up in, the sun that kisses me only slightly better than you do, and leaves me golden and baked. The breeze that comes. Every once in a while but feels like it’s god exhaling. I want to show you the man who raised me, who laughs at the simple things and let’s me draw on his newspaper. And i want you to meet the woman that raised me, who was always behind me cleaning up my messes and those of the ones around her. I want to show you where I went to school, and where I had my 6th birthday party. I want to take you not to the island where I was raised, but to the island that raised me.

I want to cherish every moment I have with you. Even though you and I can’t be together, your presence reassured me that one day, when we’re grown and all of this is behind us, we can be mature enough to reconcile. Maybe it’s silly to think like that, because your first love is the one that hurts the most, I guess, but you’ve made me realize that after you turn 11, your imagination dies and nothing can reanimate it like the feeling of falling for someone. That little spark from our first kiss. It felt like home. It felt like a warm, mushy embrace. It felt like warm coffee and rainy afternoons that cling to your skin. It felt like fire in my bones and carbon in my blood. It’s been almost 8 months and i still feel it. 

Letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I don’t want to, and I know you don’t either, but I’m not like you. I can’t live a facade day to day,forcing myself to live a certain way, because I will always find myself opening up as my true being. I can’t hold all of these thoughts and feelings and emotions in my head. That makes you strong. You say you’re never going to get over us. But you have to. I tell you that we have to through tears over the phone and you tell me right back how scared you are. That voice and those sobs broke my heart into a million fucking pieces and I think about it every day. That night you and I cried on the phone because you worried about me. Because you cared. Because I threw up in the bathroom because I couldn’t even breathe and you waited outside for me to come out of the stall. Because you knew I was upset. You knew the only way I could forget the beautiful memories we made was to think and worry about all the negative ones. But I tolerated that for a month, and it’s over with him now. I don’t know where we’re at. Monday you called me and you gave me that look and made some obscene movements with your tongue, but simple banter nonetheless. All we could do was run to the end of our chain and bark. 

I miss the feeling of your lips. And how your tongue works so well on mine. I miss when we would make out for hours and watch nature documentaries on your bed. It feels like just yesterday, but putting the pieces back together feels like trying to piece a dream back into place.

I’m terrified of forgetting that feeling. I know I’m just a kid, and I have so much to experience on the world. And this will seem really dumb in some years. But you have given me the whole world, the stars in the night sky, the sun and moons, the tides and the rain. You have given me the ocean and the earth, you have given me the smell of rain and the warmth of a blanket on a cold evening. You have made me feel alive. My heart beats and my blood pumps and my lungs inflate because of you. Because of you I grew up, I learned, I spent countless nights crying and worrying and wondering about you, and praying for you and restoring my faith in god for you. Never would I have thought you were going to be my first. Never would I have expected that kiss. That beautiful, innocent, spontaneous kiss. 

Today you came with me to my ceremony. You told me how proud you were, how amazing it was to see me success. You had been looking at my lips all day and I don’t know if you noticed. All I wanted to do when I saw my art on display was just grab you and hold you and tell you how amazing and supportive you’d been. I want to give you the world. You make me the happiest I can be.

from dan to kyle

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Our first time was amazing. We watched silly movies and kissed for what seemed hours. Your hands would wander, and I never expected it to go anywhere, but eventually it did. When you first started, it hurt. I didn’t want you to stop but I needed it so slow it was like dipping a finger in quicksand. It was special. I remember playing I Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. Then we put on Twin Peaks and listened to the theme song while we made innocent love on your big, comfortable bed. Your gentle breathing on my neck, the slight discomfort and pleasurable sting made it all the more better.

But that’s over now. 

I don’t care who you like. I have no excuse to be sad. We’re not together. 

It’s just hard to see you everyday, all day. It reminds me of all the time and effort I spent on helping you and we couldn’t even be together in the first place. I hate your friends. I hate my friends too. It’s like you don’t realize how big of a lie you are. Why do you try to hide those things about yourself? You have no reason to be ashamed of the way you are. Sometimes you make me sad that im gay. I think the lowest point in my life was when you asked me to dress differently because your family was coming over. Made me feel wonderful.

But I still love you. I have a horrible feeling that I’ll always come back to you because you were my first. That’s something that’s not gonna change for me. I might have been the 17th person you kissed, the 20 something-eth one you’ve dated, but you will always be my first to me.

You hide. You’re afraid. And that’s okay. But don’t let that fear consume you to the point where you lie to yourself and you ignore something that makes you who you are. Please don’t be afraid. You are beautiful and strong and ambitious. I pray that one day, you’ll find the strength to acknowledge that part of you. But for now, you need to re-evaluate whatever the hell you think you’re doing.

Please grow up. Maybe be a kid Again. I don’t know if you’re too mature or too immature. I miss you more than I miss my own happiness. but we can’t do this anymore and this is the final letter I’ll ever write you. Unless you ever change your mind. Maybe when your devilish family all dies out and you end up not so attractive, alone because those who loved you realied how empty you were inside had left you. I doubt that will happen. You will find someone. I won’t, I’ll be all by myself, with nothing but memories of lakes and laughter and late night kisses. Because at the end of the day, I was always yours, but you were never mine.

-dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t written in about a year. A lot has happened since then, and all those fanfics about a forbidden teenage homo affair, I lived that. So here’s something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest.


End file.
